


Keep it close to the chest

by Elisexyz



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Gen, Hair Braiding, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21755515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Jiya is injured and in urgent need of pulling her hair back, one way or another. Flynn has good timing.
Relationships: Garcia Flynn & Jiya
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26
Collections: Found Family Bingo





	Keep it close to the chest

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fill for the "Hair Braiding/Cutting/Care" prompt [on my Found Family Bingo card on Tumblr](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/189688500464/hair-braidingcuttingcare-fill-for-the-found), requested by Anonymous.  
>    
>  The setting is pretty vague, it could be set somewhere in s2 I suppose, or in a post-Chinatown AU in which we happily ignore the movie, whichever you prefer! Also, warning for Very Convenient Injury With No Explanation as a plot device. LOL.

“I _swear_ I’m shaving it all off,” Jiya mutters, her face twisted in a pained grimace as she finally puts her arm down, standing in front of the mirror and glaring at the hair still in her face.

She should have realized this wouldn’t work: the whole reason why she elected to pull her hair up is that it keeps getting in her face, she keeps automatically raising her hand to push it back, and she has to bite back a scream as pain shoots right through her shoulder. How exactly did she expect to be able to fix it on her own, with one arm broken and the other barely functional?

She is about to call it a day and maybe go looking for Lucy or Denise or literally anybody else with bare minimum skill to come up with a decent ponytail, when the door to the bathroom opens, making her turn sharply and jump a little in her place.

Flynn stops dead on his tracks, blinking at her.

“Oh, sorry,” he mutters, glancing back to see if he missed the chair, which Jiya realizes then she forgot to put out.

Remembering his usual complaints about no one remembering that rule and not wanting to worsen her sour mood, she acknowledges him with a brief head gesture and then she turns back to the mirror, deciding to go for a last attempt at fixing her hair, just to look busy. With a little luck, Flynn will leave her to it without any lecture.

She doesn’t realize he hasn’t actually left until she drops back her arm, with a lot of internal cursing and having lasted about a fifth of the previous time, and he walks up to her.

“Would you like an—hand?” he offers, a joking note in his voice to cover his hesitance.

The mere thought of letting Flynn fix up her hair is _weird_ , but she’s frustrated and in pain and she thinks she might start crying if another single lock of hair fell on her eyes, so she simply says: “ _Please_.”

Flynn smiles a little at her plead, taking the hair tie from her hand and pulling her hair back, taking a long, thoughtful look at it.

“Is a braid okay?” he asks, spying her face on the mirror.

“I—” she hesitates, a little thrown by the question, because a _braid_ is—well, it requires more effort than she was expecting. “Yeah, sure,” she says though, mostly curious about _Flynn_ coming up with a _braid_. Surely it’s not something that many people could have witnessed.

He answers with a quick nod, getting to work. She expects him not to have particularly gentle hands, perhaps because in her head touch should somehow match personality, or perhaps just because they are _big_ , instead his fingers are more delicate than hers probably are.

It doesn’t take long of her standing there, all tense and staring at Flynn’s utterly concentrated expression, like he’s doing something definitely more vital than braiding her hair, for Jiya to begin feeling uncomfortable in the silence.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” she gets out, her voice sounding disproportionately loud in the empty bathroom. “About the chair. I forgot.”

Flynn glances at her, but only for a second. “It could have been worse,” he assures, lightly. “I once walked in on Wyatt getting out of the shower. At least you are fully clothed.”

At that, she has to stifle a laugh, bowing her head slightly and her shoulders shaking.

“Don’t move, I’ll mess it up,” he warns, sternly, tugging a little at her hair to prompt her to stand straighter.

“Sorry, sorry,” she amends, a smile still bubbling at her lips as she obeys the silent command. She purses her lips, staring at him for a few moments. “So, what did you do to become such an expert on braids? Tell me you used to have longer hair.”

Her brain supplies a terrible mental image of a younger Flynn, covered in leather as he stands next to a giant black bike, his hair beyond shoulder length and a grin on his face. It’s an hilarious, if mildly disturbing, thought.

And if it is in any way true, she needs _pictures_.

He snorts. “No, sorry to disappoint,” he says. He pauses for a few moments, his smile morphing once again into a concentrated expression. “My daughter was obsessed with braids,” he explains then, his tone casual. “You wouldn’t believe how many hours I’ve spent braiding the hair of her dolls.”

She feels a pang of regret for her question, her face falling a little as she spies Flynn’s expression, looking for a clue on what to say next. What _is_ there to say?

Fortunately, he is wearing a look of fond reminiscence, sparing her the ordeal of having to come up with a way to offer some comfort to one of the weirdest men she ever knew. She isn’t sure she would have known where to begin.

She still doesn’t come up with anything intelligent to say, and he doesn’t bother keeping the conversation going, leaving her only to enjoy the feeling of fingers running through her hair and to watch in awe as he seemingly puts a lot more effort into this than she would have thought. At least it’s a decent enough distraction from the pain in her shoulder, that’s shooting little aches through her arm too.

“There,” he declares soon enough, pulling his hands up and taking half a step back. “All done.”

She turns slightly so that she can take a look in the mirror, and though she can’t see it perfectly that’s definitely a great braid.

“Thank you!” she all but squeals. No hair in sight, she can finally _see_. “You are a lifesaver.”

He snorts, offering a small smile that seems horribly genuine. “You’re welcome.” He hesitates for a moment. “Maybe next time you can ask before you overwork that arm to the point of tears, yeah?”

She falters a little. “I mean—if you don’t mind—”

“I don’t,” he assures, firmly. The look on his face is almost severe, like he’s scolding her for thinking he would. Or maybe he’s just being awkward.

“Thank you then,” she says, coming up with a big smile. A pause. “I’ll leave you the bathroom.”

He acknowledges her with a nod.

As she walks out, she can’t help glancing at her reflection once again, marvelling at the thought that _Flynn_ just braided her hair. And he’s damn good at it too.

Strangely enough, she thinks she’d rather keep this new development for herself.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] Keep It Close to the Chest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21898702) by [DraejonSoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraejonSoul/pseuds/DraejonSoul), [UnUnpredictableMe (DraejonSoul)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraejonSoul/pseuds/UnUnpredictableMe)




End file.
